


The wings on your way down

by Mishasdestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angel Wings, Bottom Dean, Castiel's True Form, Confused Castiel, Confused Dean, Dean's Soul, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Panic, M/M, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Slow Build, Soul Bond, WIP, Wing Kink, Wingfic, Wings, only a small gay panic though, smut in later chapters, starts with plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishasdestiel/pseuds/Mishasdestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean dies on a hunt, Castiel can't help it but to bring him back like he did when Dean went to hell. However, he forgets to wipe Dean's memory of said saving and finds a hunter in love with the angel behind the vessel. Dean tries to deal with the sudden feelings for his angel and his angel's true form when he finds himself in awe of Castiel's wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The hidden light

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow this got deleted (by me).

A body goes limp suddenly, knees giving in under the weight of the collapsing body, eyes widened in shock and surprise. His body touches the ground with a unmistakable force. A soft orange glow coming from the fire near illuminates the body; the fire inside the grave is the only source of light in the dark night. A soft breath is breathed out. Then-  
“DEAN!” the voice of Sam Winchester screams in complete agony. The man drops near the limp body, voice thick with panic. He knows that voice. He certainly knows that name. Sam heaves his brother up in his arms, shaking him violently but all that movement does is shaking the head loosely because the neck has no strength in it left. Surely enough, though Sam Winchester must’ve only heard a soft rustle of wings, He can see an angel appearing next to the brother who has just lost his blood. He folds his wings before making himself visible to the man on his knees.

“Cas?” Sam says out of breath. His brows are knitted together in the concentration of holding his brother in his arms. He holds two fingers to Deans pulse but to no surprise, there is nothing to feel.  
“I was looking for you but couldn’t find you, until I heard your voice,” says Castiel, his own voice dark and worried. He kneels next to Sam, “What happened?” He asks.  
“I don’t know. We were hunting a ghost. Burned it. Next thing I know-” he casts his eyes down, tears visible in his eyes. Cas’ white, too soft fingers lightly touch Dean’s temple. Sam can now evidently see the worry in the angel’s blue eyes. This is not the first time he wonders how much the angel really cares for his brother. 

However, this is the first time he sees the blue eyes glistening with tears of sorrow. Cas is frowning and his lips are pressed into a hard line. He softly places the palm of his hand on Dean’s cheek, but still nothing happens. Dean’s eyes are still closed, his body stays limp. Cas casts a worried look at Sam.

“No,” the larger Winchester boy softly whispers when he sees the look in the angels eyes. He had come to trust that whatever happened, Cas would be there to make sure Dean or he didn’t die. How could Dean die? On a simple hunt like this?

“He is too far gone,” Cas says, an edge of something Sam can’t place noticable in his low voice.

“Fix it Cas. I don’t care how much it’ll cost me.”

“It won’t cost you anything,” the angel murmurs. “I will get him back. For both of us.” He stands up.

“How, Cas? How are you gonna fix this with no cost? Why?”

“This is Dean.” It is said in a matter of fact tone, as if nothing else matters. This is Dean, and no matter what it will cost Castiel, it doesn’t matter.

“Close your eyes Sam. I will get him back.” Sam does what he is told, closing his eyes, even shielding them with his arm while bending away. He can still see the bright light of Cas, though. When he opens his eyes, he has been left with his brothers body.

When Cas arrives in heaven he stretches out his grace to find what he is looking for and softly touches the energy he wanted to find. Dean is, indeed, not yet completely in heaven. When Cas changed some things, he made sure anyone left with any doubt about where they belong stayed out of Crowley’s grasp and instead were send to something you could describe as a front door in heaven. Where Cas can judge them. To see if they belong here, or down. 

So Cas spreads his wings softly and doesn´t land until he can already see the soul of Dean. That one time Castiel had seen Deans soul, the hunter had been in hell. Castiel had Deans pure soul in his hands and from that moment, he knew what Dean was worth. He had never, not in all his years, anticipated how far his bond with Dean Winchester could stretch. 

His feet touch the floor softly, no sound made. Dean does not entirely look like his soul when it’s in the body he has on earth. His soul is so pure. It would’ve taken Castiels breath away if he needed breath in his true form.

…

When Dean awakes out of a state of unawareness, he is confused. He is not where he had been just minutes ago. There is a lot of light. His head feels fuzzy. Except ‘feeling’ is not the right word.

Dean the voice echos through his head, but he recognizes it. He is suddenly aware of the presence near him. It is Cas. He knows it’s Cas. But not Cas. It’s Castiel. In his true form. Wings and all. Amazing size. He had not been lying when he had told Dean about his true form.  
“Cas?” He answers, “You were not kidding about your size, were you?” A ring of one of those laughs he does not hear often goes through his head. Cas looks amazing.  
You are worried? the voice asks. Dean has no idea. He says nothing.  
I am here to get you it’s not the voice of his vessel. Not as dark. But it is amazing. It feels amazing. It rings slightly, high. Cas looks so beautiful. It’s different. Cas looks nothing like the man he is on earth. In fact, he looks nothing like a man. He looks like an angel. Wait.  
“Damnit Cas, Where the fuck am I?”  
You died the voice tells him, But I am here to get you.  
“Get me?” Deans asks.  
“Take you to your brother. Do you trust me?” Dean doesn’t have to think about that. Of course he does. This is Cas. So the form of the angel spreads it’s enourmes wings and Dean braces himself. But when they touch him, it is in the most gentle manner Dean could’ve imagined, they are almost stroking his soul. When he reaches Cas, he feels the feeling of warmth rush over him. Like when you go outside in the middle of the winter and almost freeze to death and then take a warm bath after.  
I have to take your soul into my grace Cas tells him. And that’s what happens. A light blazes around Dean. The wings cradling him light up. From black to pure white. He feels the slight pressure they have put onto his soul lift until he feels like he is floating in the brightest light imaginable. He feels different immediately. Castiel is around him. He feels him reaching into the depths of his soul, plucking every little bit of wrong away. Every little bit of sorrow. Every ounce of hurt. Castiel is so gentle, Dean almost can´t feel his touches. It feels so amazing. So intimate. There´s nothing he can compare it too, because it´s a feeling on itself and a feeling that can´t even been felt properly. 

Even though Dean has never seen Castiels true form, he recognizes him. He can feel it´s Cas even though he sees nothing but energy and feels nothing but featherlight touches into his soul. It´s still Cas. His Cas. It´s been his Cas for a while now, Dean understands that now.

We´re almost done, Dean the sounds of Cas´ celestial voice tells him and Dean is almost dissapointed, except he can´t reach that exact feeling, not without his body. A feeling of soft feathers stroking the skin of his soul reaches through to him and Dean can feel the intimate touch of reassurance. There´s no need for Cas to be gentle. It would probably be faster if he wasn´t. But he is, and it´s for Dean.

He can slowly feel his soul drifting from Cas´ grace. He is floating still, but not into the space he was. Everything darkens. He can still see the reassuring form of Cas´ grace but the light slowly dies down until everything around him is black.

Suddenly, he can feel the sensation of his soul retaking something that was once his. Slowly he seeps back into the limb body. He can feel the ground pressing into his back. Two arms around his shoulders. He can feel his eyelids pressing shut and his eyelashes ghosting over the skin of his cheekbones. He groans, loudly, breath hitching. He hears a loud cracking sounds and then a soft thud.

Slowly he flutters his eyelids open. Long locks of Sam´s hair are floating above his head. The strong arms of his brother around his shoulder. He is not looking at Dean. A soft worry is etched into his features. When Dean groans again, Sam´s head snaps around and they look into each others eyes.

“Dean.” He says. He smiles, just slightly, but it’s a smile. “You’re alive.” Dean tries to stand and though he’s slightly stiff, he manages with Sam’s help.

“What happened?” he asks his brother. With that question, Sam’s eyes snap back to where he was looking when Dean woke up. Dean follows his line of sight. Cas is on the ground, his knees trembling. There’s a big dent on the path he has landed on, a break in the asphalt. As they are looking, his knees give in andhe tumbles to the ground, breathing hard. 

Both brothers go to him with a slight run. They kneel next to the angel. Cas is full out. His eyes are closed.

“What happened?” Dean asks again. Sam shakes his head.  
“Come on, Dean, let’s get him up. It must have tired him out, whatever he did do you.” Images of light and pure reach through to Dean’s brain and he closes his eyes in reflection to the light.

“Yes.” Together they have Cas up from the ground, their arms around his limb body and take him to the impala parked outside the graveyard.

“Put him in the back seat,” Dean says. Sam pushes Cas into Dean’s waiting arms, and Dean supports Cas on his with a grunt. Sam opens the door of the car and together they carefully put Cas in the back.

“I’ll sit with him,” Dean says, taking the keys out of his jeans pocket and throwing them to Sam. “You drive to the motel.” Sam nods and Dean tilts Cas’ head up so he can slide on the seat. He closes the door and has to manouvre Cas so he can fit, his legs slightly draping off the seat, his head on Deans lap.

They arrive at the motel not much later and together they bring Cas inside and lay him down on Deans bed. His trench coat is covered in mud, as is his face with which he was in the dirt.

“I’ll clean him up. I hope he’s ok,” Dean mumbles. Sam walks around the bed and puts his hand lightly on Deans shoulder, staring down at his brother.

“You okay Dean? You- died,” he says, worry thick in his voice.

“I’m fine Sammy, Cas did a good job,” Dean tells his brother while he slides the coat off the angels shoulders and down his arms. He folds the coat up, intending to throw it in the washer as soon as he’s done.

“Can you remember anything?” Sam says from the other side of the room, sitting down on the chair there.

“A light,” Dean says with a frown. He can remember more. But those are his memories. He’s not going to tell Sammy those memories. He probably won’t be able to explain it, anyway. “Cas’ grace.” He says finally. He walks toards the little bathroom and comes out with a wet towel.

Cas’ face is peaceful while he sleeps and dean traces the dirt lines with the towel, turning Cas’ head with a slight touch of his fingers to clean the spot behind his ears. When he accidently, yes, accidently, graces Cas’ cheek with his fingers, he jerks them away when Cas takes a deep breath and his eyes shoot open.

“Wha-” he mumbles, sitting up on the bed. Dean quickly takes a step back so he’s not practically kneeling on the mattras.

…

Cas’ blue eyes scan the room in confusion and then land on Dean permenantly, staring at the oldest Winchester brother before he realises Dean told him staring is rude and he darts his eyes away, anywhere but Dean. He hears Deans low, quiet chuckle.

“Hey there Cas,” he says. Cas blinks in confusion and sits up on the bed, supporting his body weight with his hands. 

“Dean,” he says, “What am I doing in your bed?” Dean chuckles again at that, but then his face turns serious.

“You passed out after you brought me back,” Dean tells the confused angel. Castiel tilts his head slightly before starting to move.

“I am sorry for holding you up,” Castiel says, “I should go. I have important things to take care of.” He wants to go without saying another word but that would be rude and Castiel still has the fresh memory of heaven in his mind and he can’t help it but he shivers. He feels it again, the sensation of Dean’s soul.

No, Castiel thinks, he shouldn’t think of Dean like that, not while he is here. Of course, for Dean’s safety all memories of what surpassed in heaven where quickly wiped from Dean’s memory when they left Cas’ home. It makes him sad to think Dean won’t be able to remember it. Which is the more reason to go, because Cas is not even supposed to feel something like the complete human emotion of sadness. He forces a slight smile at Dean before spreading his wings far out to fly away. He tries hard not to hear the slight gasp from the hunter he leaves in the room but he does and for split second he wonders what that was about before he banishes it from his mind.


	2. With grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a hard time forgetting what Cas looks like as himself; Dean POV.

When Cas is gone exhaustion slowly creeps into Dean’s body, numbing his senses and making him weak on his legs. When he almost falls over trying to make himself coffee he can feel Sam’s arm snaking around his middle to support him and keep him off the floor. Dean looks at the worried glance his little brother gives him before plastering a little smile on his face.

“Don’t worry so much Sammy I’m fine. Just a bit tired ’s all.” Dean emphasises his words by pushing his brother’s arm away and walking steadily to the table holding Sam’s laptop, drinking said coffee carefully.

The tall Winchester brother follows him to the table and narrows his eyes slightly at Dean before speaking;

“You died. You actually died. Not nearly died, not kind of died. You actually died as in dropped down cold and were sent to heaven.”

“Actually, I wasn’t sent to heaven but some kind of in between. I bet your ass Crowley had something to do with that,” Dean growls in irritation. Sam looks up from the laptop he had been bending over.

“Crowley? Why?” he pauses a second, “How do you even know this? Do you remember what happened up there?” he asks then, curiosity evident in his eyes.  
Dean coughs into his coffee when he burns his tongue, sputtering when he looks at his brother. Shit. He hadn’t wanted to talk to Sam about what happened and if he told Sam he remembered he was probably going to have to tell him what happened.

“I remember being in neither Heaven nor Hell because that’s exactly the point. Being in heaven and hell is something you remember. Been there, done that, y’know. Nope I don’t remember a thing, which makes me think I wasn’t actually in paradise at all.” He sighs, pressing his tongue on his lips for some release of the burning. When he closes is eyes against the painful glare of the morning sun, he groans because all he can fucking see are those wings.

Dean had been pretty sure he was screwed when Can was knocked out on his bed. All he could think about were Cas’ wings and Cas’ body and the light of Cas’ grace enveloping him in the warm embrace of purity. All he could feel was the bliss. But he sought comfort in the fact that they were memories and memories fade even the most beautiful ones- like the memory of his mother had, all those years ago. So these would too and in not very long all Dean would remember would be a faint light and he’d live through it.  
But then, when Cas had woken up and fled as if the motel was on fire, he’d realised he wasn’t going to forget. Because he’d seen Cas’ wings. It had only been a second. A second of agonizing, life changing bliss. This time, Dean was sure he would never be able to forget something he would be able to see every time Cas came around to say hi and then just left like he pleased. Dean would be shoved face first in all those damn feelings every time they would need the angel, or every time Dean would think up something to need the angel, or every time Sammy couldn’t keep his nose out of someone else business and he would think of something to need the angel and it was scaring the crap out of Dean. He’s not sure how he is even going to react when he sees Cas for the first time; he hadn’t exactly been able to help the little gasp from escaping his mouth at the majestic sight of two huge and black feathered wings just appearing like Cas had been hiding them all that time.

Which he probably had been. Damn angel. How is that even fair?

“So what if Crowley had something to do with it? Shouldn’t you do something about Crowley trying to trick you into hell when you actually die?” Sam mentions after too long of a pause for it to be natural. He looks at Dean with his eyebrows raised, a cocky smile on his lips.

“Probably,” Dean mumbles. It’s important, but it’s not like that son of a bitch is easy to find; besides, Dean isn’t actually planning on dying anytime soon anyway. It can wait.  
“Did you find anything on that ghost that knocked me cold?” Dean asks then. He sips the last of his coffee and sets the cup down on the table with a bit too much force, the cup wobbling for a second before clattering off the table. It shatters in at least ten pieces and Dean groans.

“Not- really,” Sam says, eyes on the once-cup. He rolls his eyes, “I’ll look into it more. You go sleep. You look like you’re going to pass out.”   
“No way Sammy, I’m going to help you,” Dean says, irritated. He shoves the chair back violently and plops down on it, glad to take to weight off his legs.  
“Dean, I’d like help with the actual hunting part which you are, by the way, not capable of now. Sleep it off, then come back here and help me.” He shoots Dean one of those Sammy looks. Dean splutters protests but can’t fight his giant of a brother off when he starts to drag the chair across the motel room to the bed Cas had just been lying on and Dean has to jump up before his brother carries him to the bed. He swats Sam’s hands away and gets up himself, falling face first into the pillow.  
“Now, I’m going to the library for the wifi,” Sam says, “Because here it’s utter crap. You sleep and when I know more, I will wake you. Okay?” Dean nods into his pillows and mumbles something he’s sure Sammy can’t hear but not very much longer the door closes behind him and Dean’s alone in his room with those amazingly vivid thoughts of Cas and Cas’ light and Cas’ grace and fuck it, Cas, Dean thinks.

Except that the name slips out because of his annoyance and Dean winces at the sound in the empty room. However, he can feel rather than see - his face still being well pushed into the pillow- when Cas decided to answer his definitely-not-prayer. When usually Cas’ arrival would be announced with the rustle of wings, Dean can feel something now seconds before Cas appears.

It’s like a rubber band had been attached to both his heart and Cas’ and had been stretched and extended all the way to wherever the fuck Cas went to. That had probably been the reason why Dean had felt so stressed and wrong because now Cas is almost here, Dean sighs in relief because the stretch is finally gone. He rolls around on his back just in time to see Cas appear.

They’re there behind his back because Cas is turned towards the bed. They’re so big; They reach far above his head, towering over both of them even though Cas is easily standing 7 feet from him in his attempt to honour Dean’s rule of personal space.

They get folded to Cas’ back the moment his feet touch the floor and disappear again.

“Hello Dean,” Cas says his voice low as always. His eyebrows are knitted together in confusion, however, and he’s doing that tell tale head tilt. “Is something wrong? Did I not put it in right-?” he asks, voice lingering on the last word a bit in his confusion.  
“Whoa man, no I’m fine,” Dean says quickly while he sits upright.

“Then why did you call me?” Cas asks. 

As if Dean would never call him without needing him, Dean thinks before realising that he might have been more careful with that lately, always making up some kind of excuse even if all he wanted was to just talk to the angel. God he’s so screwed because how is he going to fight all that now if he couldn’t even before all this shit happened?  
Dean somehow only now notices how Cas’ blue eyes are just staring right into his, flitting from right to left, focusing and unfocusing, the blue astonishingly pure but also different; there’s a faint light just behind them. Damnit that stupid grace.

“I didn’t call you,” Dean decides to say earnestly.  
“You did! I heard you- ah.” Cas lets his eyes fall and he’s still as a statue while he stares at the floor. He nods in understanding now.   
“I apologize. Should I only come when you yell my name next time?” Cas starts and god Cas, choose your words more carefully next time, Dean thinks bitterly, “I was not informed of your rules about calling me,” he finishes. He looks up to Dean again. Cas laughs nervously because of Cas’ rambling.  
“No it’s fine man, don’t worry about it. I have a question though. Were you busy?” he tries to keep his voice completely neutral. Naturally, he fails miserably but Cas doesn’t even really seem to notice.

“Yes,” Cas answers in that matter of fact way of his.   
“Oh okay so do you have time? Did I disturb you in anything important?” Dean asks.  
“Yes.” Same tone. His eyes are looking towards something slightly higher than Dean’s eyes.  
“Okay then. My question can wait. Do you want to leave?” Dean asks. Being straightforward with Cas always seems like the best solution.  
“No,” Cas says, eyes shifting a bit to look into Dean’s again, “No you can ask.”  
Dean nods. He’s silent for a while, searching for something in the light behind Cas’ eyes. Cas doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up on something Dean can’t hear is going on in his own head- Angel thought, Angel radio, whatever.

“So-,” Dean starts and almost chickens out before taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter. He leans his back against the headboard and pats the space at the end of the bed for Cas. Cas seems confused for a second before taking the place, sitting next to Dean’s feet.

“When I died. You found my soul and you put it back into my body, correct?” his voice is an octave lower. Cas only nods curtly, not noticing anything about Dean’s nervousness. So Dean continues.

“So what I saw there, that was you wasn’t it? Your true form? All the size and light and uh-,” he swallows the last word because he can’t make himself say it. Wings. Nope. Not happening. When he dares to looks towards Cas, he sees Cas’ eyes growing big and his mouth hanging open, a look of complete shock and possibly horror on his face.  
Suddenly, he’s moving, leaning on one arm for support while he bends forward, right over Dean’s body, one arm outstretched. Dean notices the extended finger just in time before it can touch his temple.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks in sudden terror, leaning back just that tiny bit, clasping a hand around Cas’ wrist to hold it mid air. He knows he’s not actually stopping Cas because he’s not strong enough, but he’s pretty sure Cas gets the picture.

“I apologize Dean,” Cas says softly, his face closer to Deans now because he’s still leaning over his body. “I was under the impression I took that memory away. If you would just release my arm I can fix it. You won’t remember a thing.” He kind of tries to make Dean release his wrist by pushing his arm forward. Dean grips Cas’ arm with his other hand, too.  
“Whoa! What?!” He squeaks trying not to be embarrassed by his voice going about three octaves higher out of shock. “No!” he exclaims, regretfully pushing Cas back a bit. Somehow he feels panic deep inside of him and his heart starts to beat faster while his breath quickens.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” Cas says in his innocent, deep voice. He makes no move to remove his arm out of Dean’s grasp.  
“Why would you remove that memory?” Dean demands. He takes a deep breath to will the feeling of complete panic away because he can’t make him forget that. He wants to remember that Cas even long after he has a mind to remember it with.

“It’s safer; I always remove it. I did with you before.” There are two things registering in Dean’s mind at the same time: safer and before.  
“Excuse me,” he splutters, “Before? Safer? What are you talking about?”  
“My Grace can be too much for humans even if seen in heaven or hell. Even the memory can be dangerous or too much, like only my actual voice can be too much. I’m sure you remember.” Of course he does.

“I remember,” Dean says weakly, “But I don’t think I’m going to burn up. I remember,” oh does he remember, “But I haven’t burned up yet. I think I’m good. No memory wiping tonight, okay?” he looks pointedly at Cas as he asks that question.

“So you want to keep the memory?” Cas asks him, unsure. Dean nods fervently.   
“Okay. I won’t remove it then.” Dean drops his arm, trusting Cas to keep his word.  
“Why do you want to keep it?” Cas asks curiously.

“I. It was-,” Dean groans a bit. He has no idea what to say. Beautiful still doesn’t really cover it. He feels awe whenever he thinks of Cas in that form. But awe doesn’t really cover it either. So lacking the ability to explain, he lets that sentence hang there. Cas is still slightly leaning over him and all that is also making it harder to think because the memories are too fresh.

“Never mind,” he mumbles, “Can I ask you another question?” Cas doesn’t seem to be really listening to what he’s saying, though. He is staring intensely at Dean, eyes focused on something but nothing at the same time. He shakes a bit, snapping away from it.  
“Of course,” he says then belatedly.

“When you saw me-. Put me back. Did you see-,” Dean gestures helplessly towards his own body to describe what he is not able to say in his nervousness, “Or do you see something else?”

“I see your soul. In its true, human soul form. It resembles your body but it’s different too. Very different. I can see your body when I see it like a ghost, like something on the surface. It’s-,” he looks like he continues talking for a second but no sounds come out of his mouth, so he closes it. He then smiles.  
“That,” he says like that makes any sense.  
“What?”   
“That. What you think my grace feels like, that’s exactly how your soul feels like to me.” He offers Dean a slight smile, “There’s no human word for it, though.” Dean frowns. No. Wait-

“What the fuck man- did you look inside of my mind? Personal space Cas, also in the mind.” Cas nods in confusion and Dean sighs.  
“Don’t do that.”  
“I apologize Dean, I was curious.”  
“Don’t do it again.”

“I cannot promise you that.” Dean groans, leaning a back against the headboard again because somehow he had ended up leaning into Cas’ space a bit.  
“Do all angels look like- that? Like how you looked? The light and the colours and- y’know?” he asks then.  
“No. Every angel looks very different. Just like every soul looks different.”

“I bet the other ones are creepy fuckers,” Dean mumbles more to himself than to Cas but Cas seems to hear him because he smiles slightly and then he even laughs and that’s not something he does very often so it takes Dean by surprise. Cas doesn’t just display emotion.

The memory of Cas and his true form, though dull compared to the actual experience, keeps pressing into his head. It overwhelms Dean. When he looks at Cas now, for the first time he sees not only his vessel with his human eyes but also Cas. The real Cas. A soft glow that wasn’t there before. He stretches out his hand without thinking and softly touches the skin just above his cheekbone, close to his eye. Cas doesn’t move but his eyes do flick up to look into Dean’s with a questioning expression and he hears a sharp intake of breath.

“Why do you look different to me now?” Dean asks the angel. Cas doesn’t say anything at first, he just keeps staring and Dean looks back. His blue eyes seem bluer with the light of his grace seeping through and Dean takes in a sharp breath himself and removes his hand from Cas’ face quickly. He is suddenly a bit creeped out by his move.  
Cas just blinks, though, and then softly opens his mouth to answer Dean.

“You remember my grace now so you can sense it. You don’t actually see my grace; that would burn your eyes out. You see its ghost; it’s trail. It’s what I see when I see other angels in human vessels. It’s why It might be dangerous for you to remember. It doesn’t seem to hurt you, though.”   
“You look less human and more Cas,” Dean tries to explain.  
“Are you sure you want to keep the memory?” Cas asks with a frown.  
“Yes! I mean. Yes. You look less like the ‘dude’ and more like- well-,” he stops talking, not sure where that sentence was going anyway.  
“Angel?” Cas fills him in. Dean nods, then shrugs.  
“I like it, I think.” Okay Winchester, we’re done with this now, Dean thinks.

“You are very earnest,” Cas mentions then, shifting closer into Dean’s side, “You normally aren’t when it’s about your personal human emotions, I have noticed.” Dean frowns now. Bastard.  
“Dude stop that.”  
“You make me curious when you are not honest but I don’t look very often. It is a very human thing to lie.” Dean is silent when Cas confesses that and thinks about it.  
“Do you look at Sam’s mind too?”   
“No,” is his angel's short answer.  
“Why? Doesn’t Sam lie?” Dean asks in confusion.  
“Sam lies quite often,” Cas answers with a straight face.  
“So?”  
“I don’t actually care what Sam really thinks,” he says in that annoying matter of fact tone. Dean catches his breath. Cas’ eye flick to his face and he breaths out. Dean can feel his breath tickle over his face now. They had shifted closer again while talking.  
“But you do with me?” Dean asks. Cas doesn’t answer. He just stares, blue eyes flicking from Dean’s right to left eye, trying to look for something in his face; or maybe even his mind, Dean thinks shortly.

“Didn’t you need to be somewhere?” Dean asks suddenly, needing space to think safely.  
“Yes.” He now stretches his own arm and softly stretches his fingers towards Dean’s face. Dean pulls his face back a bit, weary.  
“I won’t erase anything,” Cas says in a soft whisper. He brushes his fingertips softly against Dean’s temple and seems to see something in his face Dean is not aware is there. His soul, maybe? Dean blinks, once, twice. Cas gets up suddenly.

“I should go.” Dean nods in agreement, eyes raking over Cas’ body, stiff and frozen to the spot a bit away from Dean. Dean expects him to just go because it’s rare to even announce when he needs to go. He doesn’t, though.

“One other thing,” Cas says hesitantly. Dean mentions for him to continue.  
“We now share a bond. More so than before,” he says, “You chose to remember me therefore you will. Your soul will now stretch out for my grace. I will be able to find you.” Dean is not sure what Cas means, he just thinks that okay, that feeling of that rubber band kind of makes sense now, then.  
“Without you calling me, I will be able to find you. You went to great lengths to hide yourself from angels. I will be able to find you now because of your consent to remembering my true form. An Angel’s grace leaves a trail on a soul it heals, especially when the soul keeps the memory of the healing.” Dean stares at Cas, really stares. It makes sense. He’s felt it. He’s seen it. 

“That’s OK Cas, I don’t mind you being able to find me.”

With that, Cas’ wings reappear and they’re as breathtaking as the first time Dean saw them in Heaven. They expand; filling the whole room and Dean can do nothing but stare at them. Cas doesn’t seem to notice and within a second, he and his wings are gone.

The rubber band expands and stretches inside his soul.

**Author's Note:**

> So. I will update as much as I can. Let me know what you think.


End file.
